Bioshock: Continuum
by Thomas Lowson
Summary: After the end of Bioshock: Infinite, many thought the tale of Booker DeWitt had ended. Really, it had only begun, again.


1912.

Anna. The world swirled in the man's head, as Booker DeWitt thrashed against the water. He had never expected in his life to be back here again, all those years after Wounded Knee, but upon reflection, it was inevitable. The light above grew dimmer, as DeWitt knew his time was coming. But perhaps, this was always how it was supposed to be. Elizabeth. Fitzroy. Comstock. The names of the lives he had ruined racketed in his mind, and now, he was here. Drowning in a literal sea of his own regret. As the light grew dimmer still, he maintained his strength to look at his right hand. AD. The two letters, grazed deep into his flesh, mocked him still. How was he to know what had happened? How could he had known what had happened. Happen. Has happened. Will happen. It was all relative really, a continuous chain in time. The Lutece's had taught him that, as he slowly fell into the darkness.

"Anna. I'm so sorry".

48 Years Later.

The cold desolate room burst into life, the stench of mould and greed hung thick in the air. As they looked down at the corpse that had been a man, his clothes destroyed and identity in tatters, the two doctors knew this was beyond their pay.

"Ryan is crazy for having us do this" the taller of the two stated to his colleague.  
"Shu'up, if y'know what's good for you" the shorter replied, his stutter no doubt brought on by the tension of the situation. "If R-R-Ryan hears you"-  
"If Ryan hears me, I'm as good as dead" the first replied, not allowing the shorter to finish. "But come on Bill, with the way this place is going, that's not a question of if, but when".

"You're wrong, Ryan's got a p-plan". The shorter doctor wiped a bead of sweat from his hairless brow, the sweat dripped lackadaisical from his hand.

"Dr Isaiah Jacobs" the taller doctor mocked. "Personal confidente of Andrew Ryan. You really think that this place can carry on". He shuddered, and regretted showing the form of weakness. "These things, splicers. They're gonna rip this place apart".

"Those thing, they're people J-Joseph!" Dr. Jacobs replied, the desperation evident in his tone. "If we can find the key-"  
"Isaiah, you're painfully naive. Do you really think this guy can help us" Joseph motioned to the man that laid between them.

"Don't you know who this is?" Isaiah began, as a tone of assurance returned to his voice. "This, is Booker DeWitt, he's a legend. He-"  
"I know who Booker DeWitt is Isaiah", the taller of the pair, again cut him off. "You seem to forget I was once a child"

"Booker DeWitt,

was a man of true grit.

And fought with all his might.

He searched for the girl.

His prize and his pearl.

Correcting all that was wrong into right".

"And if this is Booker DeWitt, we may be able to save those p-people" Isaiah pleaded. Joseph threw his hands in the air with frustration.

"Sure! If this is Booker DeWitt, and if we are able to revive him, and if he still has a conscience, he may be able to help. That's if there is anything left for these splicers. Seems a lot of hoping Isaiah".

"We don't have a choice. Ryan wants him alive, and if we can't do that, than there is no hope for us anyway". Both men looked down at the body, the cold and ice had preserved him impeccably, frozen in time since 1912. Whilst nothing was said, the tension was evident. Eventually though, the taller one, Joseph broke the silence that hung thick in the air.

"Ok, well, we've got nothing to lose. Hand us the syringe", he motioned to a single thick hypodermic needle that sat on a workbench, the thick green fluid flowed like molasses inside. Taking it from his colleague, Dr Joseph made a silent prayer. He had known since he entered Rapture, that this was no place for things so trivial as faith, but if ever there was time to have faith, it was now.

"Dr Joseph Crane, and Dr Isaiah Jacobs performing" he began, speaking into the tape recorder in his lab coat pocket. "We are attempting to revive a figure to life, in search of his assistance in Rapture. We are led to believe that this man is notable freedom fighter, Booker DeWitt, most known in the horrors of Columbia a near half-century ago". He paused, contemplating his next move. "Making the first injection".

Despite the intense hardship the body had gone through, the needle pierced smoothly between the rib-cage, almost as it had always meant to be. At first, the body remained motionless, as the last of the serum dripped from the now empty syringe.  
"God damnit!" Dr Crane cursed, as he threw the needle far from the table.

"S-so, what now J-J-Joseph" Dr Jacobs replied, his nervous stutter in full effect, as he gazed at the camera that hung above them both. Was Ryan watching them now? Had he already sent death to them? Perhaps he would be fair?

"Now, I don't-wait! Look!" he began, as he stared at the figure.

"What is it?" Isaiah began, as he stared down. It came slowly, the oddest of twitches, before the corpse of DeWitt shook violently.

"WE NEED RESTRAINTS" Isaiah yelled at his colleague and DeWitt continued to shake. After what seemed like an age, the man fell still, as Booker DeWitt spoke for the first time in half a century.

"Anna...sorry...Elizabeth" DeWitt muttered as he stirred. The two doctors gazed at eachother, dumbfounded at what had happened. In their wildest dreams, they had never expected this to work.

"Mr? DeWitt?" Dr Jacobs began. "B-Booker DeWitt?" Sitting up, Booker was scared, an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. Even at Wounded Knee, his fears had been calmed by the militaristic desire for victory.

"Who-who wants to know" he spat out, as his body continued to ache.

"Mr DeWitt, my name is-"  
"Their names are irrelevant" a smooth voice flooded the room. "What matters, is you".

"What the? What the hell's going on?" He replied, as his eyes adjusted to the room.

"Mr DeWitt", my name is Andrew Ryan, and I am the one who has brought you back to the land of the living". His tone was calm, without urgency or desire, it made Booker's skin crawl. "Mr DeWitt, my city is crumbling, and we need something to hold it together. You, are that cement Mr DeWitt".

"And what if I refuse" Booker's natural animosity against authority kicked in, as he stood for the first time in decades. For the first time in a long while, Ryan laughed, and the two doctors couldn't help but feel uneasy. They had never heard their fearsome leader laugh before, but they knew it was not good.

"Mr DeWitt, you don't have a choice. You will help us, or you will face the same fate as your two doctors here". The silence hung in the air, like a guillotine waiting to fall.

"Mr R-Ryan, please", Jacobs pleaded, but it was too late. As quickly as he had come, Ryan had clearly left, as two mechanical doors hissed to life, revealing the monsters behind them. At first, DeWitt saw them as mere men, till they entered the light.

"Shit! What the hell are they" He began, before one of the splicer's lunged at him. "Get off, you freak" he yelled, as he dug a nearby scalpel into the creature's neck". As the room became quiet once again, as the other splicer's took their leave, Booker tried to breathe deeply, only to find himself stifled.  
"F-f-fuck me" the cold voice called out behind him, as Booker turned and was sickened by the sight. The two doctors had remained nameless, and were now bleeding out before him.  
"Shit! Here, I'll get help"  
"No time" Dr Crane coughed out, as the blood poured.

"L-look out. Splicers. Get Ryan", Dr Jacobs stated, his voice now a croak. Carefully, he took a small item out. "Earpiece, a friend", he muttered, as death took both doctors. For a moment, DeWitt could not comprehend what had happened. He had been dead, but now was here, in this cesspool of men and monsters. Slowly, he took the small metallic device, and placed it in his ear.

"Hello?"  
"Am'I right thinkin' I'm speakin' to Booker DeWitt?". The voice was friendly, yet still cold, a tone that Booker could not place.

"Yeah, who's asking?"

"Boyo, I'll be askin' the questions. My name is Atlas. I'm a friend, and I want you to survive Rapture matey". The irishman paused. "Now would you kindly get to a Battysphere?"


End file.
